


All The Help You Need: Connections Series Vignette #5

by ixchel55



Series: Connections [5]
Category: Fast and the Furious (2001), Fast and the Furious Series
Genre: M/M, Pre-Movie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-03-17
Updated: 2011-03-17
Packaged: 2017-10-17 01:17:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/171404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ixchel55/pseuds/ixchel55
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Toretto BBQ: where did Vince go when he left in a snit? What was he thinking and why did he come back? A deleted scene and a flashback.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All The Help You Need: Connections Series Vignette #5

"I'm outta here." Vince slung the grocery bags he was carrying into Leon's reluctant hands.

"Aw, come on, dawg," Leon complained. "Yo, Dom!"

Vince ignored Letty's grumblings as well as he stalked stiff legged down the driveway toward his car.

"Vince!" hollered Dom. "Get over here and give us a hand!"

"Looks like you got all the help you need, brother!" It was one of the few times in his life that Vince had ignored or disobeyed Dom, but the sight of that punk standing beside his best friend, taking what should be his place...it was too much.

Quickly, the only trace he'd left behind was the harsh echoing squeal of his tires along with a grayish plume of smoke and the stench of wasted tread competing with aroma of grilling chicken.

***

In less than three minutes of non-stop cursing he was pulling into the driveway of what Vince supposed was still technically home. Though he rarely slept here anymore, he usually came by several times a week and picked up whatever mail had come for him. And while he slammed the door of his car, he didn't dare slam the front door of his mother's house. Still, he wound up shutting it harder than he'd intended.

"Vince?" His mother's startled voice floated down the hallway from her bedroom at the back of the house. "Is that you?" It stopped Vince in his tracks with a grimace. He paused for a moment, clenching his fists convulsively, forcing calm into his voice.

"Yeah, Ma, it's me."

"Well, what are you doing back here? I thought you were at Dominic's. Did you forget the cake?"

"Everything's OK, Ma. Don't worry about it...and don't get up!"

"But..."

"Everything's OK," Vince repeated as he walked heavy-footed into the kitchen.

Yanking open the refrigerator door, he pulled out a beer. Twisting off the top, he carefully opened the cabinet door beneath the sink and dropped the cap into the trash can before slumping down at the kitchen table. He downed a third of the bottle in a single gulp then let himself slide even further down in the chair, tilting his head back to rest against the wall.

His scowl became more pronounced as he remembered Spilner standing there beside the grill...beside Dom...with that punk-ass expression on his too-pretty face. Oh, he kept his face blank enough alright, but Vince could see the smug challenge in his eyes even if he had managed to fool everyone else.

"Fucking pretty-boy faggot!" Vince swore, taking another swig from the bottle clenched tightly in his fist.

"Vincent Michael Czezny!"

Vince damn near snorted the mouthful of beer up his nose in surprise as he shot upright in his chair.

"You know I won't tolerate that type of language in this house anymore."

Vince whirled around in his seat to see his mother standing in the kitchen doorway. At the sight of the disapproving expression on her face, he ducked his head and muttered, "Sorry, Ma." When she passed him on her way to the refrigerator, he glared at the silent wheels of her walker. Shit, he liked that squeaky wheel; it let him know when she was up and around. That's why he always 'managed' to forget to oil the things like she asked.

"I can use a can of WD-40 as well as you, Vincent," she said. She was busy pouring herself a glass of iced tea, not even glancing at Vince, which merely reinforced what he'd known since he was a kid; his mother was either a mind reader or she really did have eyes in the back of her head.

Adding ice and a wedge of lemon to her tea, she made her way carefully to the table, the wrist of the hand holding the glass propped on the top of the walker.

Vince knew better than to try to help her. His mother was proud and only allowed just so much assistance. She had survived a drunken, abusive father and a drunken, abusive husband, took care of herself and wouldn't allow anyone to coddle her. Vince had worked hard to convince her to let him pay for her hip replacement surgery. She'd wanted to know where the money came from and when he'd told her it was from the races he'd won, she'd been doubtful and downright suspicious. The others had been less than impressed with the story as well. Leon had snorted with derision and Letty had rolled her eyes, but they'd followed Dom's cue and backed Vince up. Vince would have said or done anything to help heal the injuries done to his mother. The painful, damaged hip and been compliments of that drunk bastard she'd been married to, the man Vince was ashamed to claim as his father.

"The doctor said you're supposed to be taking it easy. You should use the wheelchair."

She was shaking her head, "If I do that, I’ll never get my strength back. The doctor said that light exercise is good for me at this point. The walker’s just for around the house…I take the wheelchair when I have to go out." His mother's tone was firm and no-nonsense, but her eyes were calm. Serene...he'd heard that word once and decided then and there that he'd move heaven and earth until it one day applied to his mother.

They were getting there.

Vince took another drink and looked at his mother as she sat opposite him, watching him so patiently. He could actually feel himself calming beneath her knowing gaze. He realized, not for the first time, that despite his hot temper and his love of beer, he hadn't turned out like his father mainly due to her influence. Which fact made him incredibly grateful.

Marilyn Czezny's first forty-three years had been hard and lonely ones courtesy of her father and her husband. The subsequent four years had been painful, both physically and mentally, due to her damaged hip and her own shame at the way she had 'allowed' her husband to batter her, but they hadn't been so lonely, mostly due to the friendship of Maria Toretto.

His Ma and Maria Toretto had come to know each other when he became friends with Dom. The two women had been friendly but not really friends, because his father hadn’t wanted Marilyn to be close with anyone else. But after the bastard kicked off, knowing the pain she was in and the difficulty she had getting around, Maria had brought friendship and life back into his mother’s life. In return, Vince knew that Marilyn had done her utmost to ease Maria's suffering, especially mentally, in her last year when the cancer had ravaged her. Marilyn had also become a kind of stand-in mother to Mia when the girl had been confused and grieving. Mia had repaid Marilyn's kindness by helping out in any way she could, usually by coming by at least a couple of times a week to help clean and to drive her on errands when Vince wasn't available.

"Now," Marilyn said, taking a sip of her tea before continuing, "does your being here and your language have anything to do with that young man that's been spending time with Mia and Dom?"

Vince halted the bottle half-way to his still open mouth. "How'd you know about Spilner?"

"Well, if his name is Brian, Mia told me about him earlier this week when she drove me to the beauty parlor."

Vince really looked at his mother for the first time since he’d arrived. Marilyn had always been a neat woman, tidy but rather colorless. The threat of his father’s violence had seemed to suck away her vitality. Now, at fifty-two, she was more attractive, more alive than she had been since she was a girl. Mia took her to the salon once a week and though she refused to have the grey colored from hair, it was now fashionably arranged. She wore light but flattering makeup and her clothes, even the housedress she had on now, were attractive and stylish. He tried to give her more than a meager smile.

"Vince, is all of this...your surly mood, the language...is this because he's been spending time with Mia?"

Vince shrugged irritably, taking another drink, and then wriggled uncomfortably under his mother's shrewd gaze.

"Or is this because he's been taking so much of Dominic’s attention?"

Vince stiffened and felt his face flush hot with renewed anger. Mia had been making noises about introducing Marilyn to some eligible men. Vince wasn't sure how he'd feel about another man in his mother's life but he knew that as long as that man was as good to her as she deserved, he'd bite his tongue off before he objected. So why couldn't he overlook the growing friendship between Dom and this Spilner punk?

"Vincent!" she said sharply, "You're too old for this schoolboy jealousy. Isn't Dominic allowed to have friends other than you? You didn't act this way when Jesse and Leon started hanging around."

Vince slouched sullenly back down into his chair and glared at the unoffending beer bottle in his hand.

Her tone gentling, his mother continued. "After all of these years, is Dominic’s friendship so easy to doubt? After all that the two of you have been through? Give the man a little more credit, Vince."

She turned away from the table and seemed to continue musing under her breath to the dishwasher. Vince had to listen hard. "If Dominic is becoming fond of this young man perhaps it's because he's filling an empty niche in his life. Remember how popular Dominic was all through school, how many people he always had around him? You were still his best friend then and that has never changed in all these years, no matter how many people he called friend. But he hasn't let very many people close to him since he…" She paused delicately, "Did his time. It’s like he’s shut himself off from all but a few familiar people. He seems more solemn...and I think...not as happy. He has so much weight on his shoulders."

Marilyn turned back toward Vince and her gaze softened with compassion. "It's natural to be a little jealous of someone who's claiming Dominic's time, but if this young man's friendship makes Dominic happy, can't you be a little generous and trust that it won't make any difference in your friendship? You owe Dominic a great deal, the least of which should be your trust."

Vince watched while his mother pushed herself to her feet and, with the aid of the walker, made her way to the sink where she emptied and rinsed out her glass, placing it in the drainer. On her way past Vince she paused and laid a hand on his shoulder, squeezing it gently.

"Think about it, Vince. You and Dominic have a long, solid friendship. Don’t go worrying it to death.” She patted the tattooed arm beneath her hand. "Have a little patience, son."

Moving slowly, but more strongly than she had in years, she made her way through the dining and living room, past the stairs and down the hall toward her bedroom.

Vince glowered at the floor beneath his feet, but instead of the worn linoleum, in his mind he saw Malibu Ken with his impossibly blue eyes. He sneered at the imaginary face, grinding his boot in the middle of it as he pushed himself to his feet. Pulling another beer from the fridge, Vince disposed of the spent bottle in the proper recycling bin on the back porch on his way to the backyard. Being careful not to let the porch screen door slam behind him, he walked down the ramp that the guys had helped him build for his mother and made his way over to one of the lawn chairs, slumping down into it.

He did think about his mother's words, how could he not? But that didn't make the memory of Spilner standing so close to Dom any easier to take. He knew Dom, knew what drove him, probably more clearly than anyone else. At first Vince thought he only had to worry about the punk sniffing around Mia. That tuna fish thing was so fuckin' lame.

Deep down, there was a part of Vince that knew he had next to no chance with Mia and truth to tell, she deserved someone better. She deserved way better than knocking around with a bunch of racers with nitrous in their blood who took all kinds of stupid-ass risks. Mia was smart...smarter than the rest of them; even smarter than Jesse, at least when it came to existing in a world larger than the streets of LA. She had a chance to finish college and make something of her life.

But God, he loved her!

She wasn't only beautiful outside, she glowed from the inside. At one time, he'd thought Mia was like one of those pretty Chinese paper lanterns with the light inside. He'd learned over the years though, that she was much tougher than she looked. More like one of those fancy wrought iron lanterns, strong as hell, beautiful and bright and she threw her own warm light over everyone she met.

Sure, she could be a little bitchy sometimes, but it was always when he was pushing too hard, when he couldn't seem to keep his mouth shut. If he could just learn to take what she was willing to give, she was the sweetest thing in the world. Trouble was, no matter how hard he tried, no matter how many of 'the looks' Dom gave him, he couldn't feel in the least brotherly toward her. He couldn't stop wanting her. And yeah, it twisted him up inside to see Mia responding to those pretty-boy looks and that pearly white smile of Spilner's.

What pissed him off almost as much was watching the way those blue eyes followed Dom around, even when Mia was **right there**. He was playing them both, 'cause Vince could see Dom watching him back. It's not like it was the first time Dom had looked at a guy, no matter that everyone tried to pretend it wasn't so.

Vince could remember the exact day he'd realized Dom's feelings ran wider than most.

 

~~November 1984~~

Vince stood on the sidewalk outside Dom's house, hands in his pockets, tee-shirt-clad shoulders hunched against the cool of the night air. He shuffled anxiously back and forth, staring up at the light coming from the big front window. He knew Dom would still be up and that Mr. Toretto was out of town overnight, but was Dom's Mom still up? Was she in the living room? Dom said she went to bed early sometimes when her husband was gone.

Feeling the warm trickle on his upper lip, Vince quickly wiped it away. In the light from the street lamp down the block, he saw the dark stain on his fingers and quickly wiped it off on the back of his jeans. Tipping his head back, he pinched his nose tightly, ignoring the pain. After a few moments, he let go and cautiously straightened his head. When nothing happened, he licked his fingers and wiped across his upper lip and around his nostril, then pulled up the neck of his navy tee and scrubbed his face with the inside of it for good measure.

Glancing back up at the Toretto house, he almost chickened out. Vince made himself take a deep breath, then blew it out unsteadily. Finally, he walked up the three steps from the sidewalk and made his way quickly up the walk to the darkened porch. Climbing the brick stairs, he paused at the top, stepping to the right to avoid the squeak of the boards in the middle. Moving slowly and carefully, he stepped onto the low porch wall next to the big front window. He grabbed the gutter downspout with his left hand and placed the toes of his right foot on the clamp that held it to the house. Careful not to put too much weight on his foot, he leaned over to peer through the window.

Vince could see the short, tight curls of Dom's head as he lay on the sofa under the front window. Sounded like Dom was watching TV, sounded like a sitcom from the tinny roar of the laugh track. Vince scanned the rest of the room quickly. Just Dom. Little Mia would be asleep and Mrs. Toretto must have already gone to bed. Vince gently tapped the fingers of his right hand on the glass. When Dom didn’t move, he tried again, this time a little harder. Alerted by the sound, but obviously unsure of its origin, Dom's head popped up as he listened. Vince tapped again and Dom craned his neck around until he spotted Vince through the window. Dom's eyes opened wide and he was obviously about to say something when Vince motioned urgently for him to be quiet. Dom narrowed his eyes and Vince motioned to the front door. Dom nodded and rolled off of the sofa.

Vince pulled himself back over onto the porch and was at the door when the porch light flipped on. He ducked his head down and as soon as the door opened a crack he hissed, "Turn the light off!"

From the corner of his eye, he could see the hesitation in Dom's face for just a moment before he killed the light, then Dom pulled the door open wider as he looked up the stairs to the second floor over his shoulder and slipped through out onto the darkened porch.

"What the fuck, Vince?" Dom whispered. "What the hell are you doing here so late? Your dad's going to kill you."

"He already tried," Vince muttered softly.

"What?"

"Nothin'! Look...can I spend the night with you?" The question was harshly whispered.

"I don't know, man. It's a school night; my mom would never go for it."

"Can't you just...I don't know...sneak me up? I'll be real quiet."

"Vince...man...you know nobody sneaks anything past my mom in her own house."

"Dom, please...I..." Vince paused and a feeling of regret and despair washed over him. He let out the deep breath he hadn't been aware he was holding, his shoulders slumping down from their hunched up position. "Never mind, it's OK." Vince's voice was even softer as he turned away to head back down the porch stairs. "Sorry."

"Vince!" Dom whispered loudly, reaching out and grabbing Vince by the arm to pull him back around. "What the fuck is going on? Are you..." Dom's words trailed off as he finally got a full on look at Vince's face in the light from the front window. "Hey man! Are you alright? What the fuck happened to you?"

"It’s nothin’! Just forget it, OK, Dom? You're right, I need to get home."

"Wait, Vince! Are you...shit!...was it your old man? Is he drinking again? Did he do this?"

Vince didn't answer. He could feel his eyes growing hot. He hung his head, shame riding him hard, and bit down on the corner of his lip to keep from sniveling like a punk. Unfortunately, it was the corner of his lip that had already been split and he tasted the salty, metallic warmth just a second before it trickled down his chin.

"Goddamn-motherfucking-cocksucker!" Dom said vehemently, his voice rising in indignation.

"Shhhh!" Vince swiped ineffectually at his mouth with the back of his hand, but only succeeded in smearing the blood across his lower face. "It don't matter, Dom. I don't want to get you in trouble with your folks."

Dom sighed hugely and ran a hand over his head. "Don't be stupid. I won't get in trouble, you big dummy."

Vince flinched at Dom's choice of words.

 _You're nothing but a stupid ass punk who ain't never going to amount to shit! And don't you start cryin' you fuckin' little pansy! I swear to fuck, I can't believe a dumb little faggot like you came from my blood. That bitch musta gotten the balls to fuck around on me with someone else!_

Vince's hand flew up to touch the swelling around his left eye in memory.

"Vince!" Dom's voice was loud in his ear and Vince couldn't seem to do anything but stare at his friend blankly.

"Come on, man, snap out of it! Get inside." Dom grabbed him by the upper arm and pulled him through the front door. Once inside where the light was better, he saw Dom wince as he got his first real look at Vince's face. "Jeez man, you're a mess! Your old man really did a number on you, didn't he?"

"It ain't as bad as it looks," Vince mumbled, self-consciously ducking his head.

"How would you know? I bet you haven't even looked in a mirror." There was a pause and Vince refused to look up and meet his friend's eyes. Dom's hand came down in an awkward pat on his shoulder. "Hang on a sec," Dom said. He made his way around the room, turning off the TV and the two lamps that were burning. "You hungry?" Dom asked. At the negative shake of Vince's head he said, "Come on. Let's get upstairs. But be quiet, OK? I don't want to wake my Mom. We'll tell her in the morning."

Sticking close the wall to avoid any of the squeaky stairs, Dom led Vince to the top and quietly down the hallway. They passed Dom's parent's bedroom door, then Mia's and were about ready to reach the safety of Dom's room when a door behind them swung open with a soft creak.

"Dominic?"

Vince didn't turn around at Mrs. Toretto's quiet voice, he just hovered half in and half out of Dom's room, trying to close in on himself and make himself as small as possible.

"What's going on, Dom?"

Dom moved back down the hall to his mother's side then began to talk rapidly in a hushed undertone. Vince could only make out a few words, but it was enough to realize that Dom was explaining to her what was going on.

Vince could feel their eyes on him and felt his face flush with heat. It was bad enough that Dom had to know what a pathetic loser he was, but he didn't think he could stand the pity mixed with distaste he was bound to see in Maria Toretto's expression.

Vince flinched and jumped when cool, slim fingers touched his cheek, but he still wouldn't look up.

"Are you hurt anywhere else, Vince; your ribs, your stomach?" When he just shook his head, eyes still pinned to the toes of his running shoes, she continued. "Vince, is your mother alright?"

That question made him look up. "I wouldn't leave her if...I mean I would never...!"

"Shhh," Maria Toretto soothed, "It's okay. I know you wouldn’t leave her.... I just needed to be sure everyone was...” Mrs. Toretto’s lips tightened slightly and she trailed off.

After a second, she continued “Why don't you boys get cleaned up and ready for bed? There’ll be time enough to talk about all of this tomorrow."

"Sure Mom, thanks. ‘Night."

"Goodnight Dom. Goodnight Vince."

Vince could only make himself glance at Maria Toretto quickly before giving her a tiny nod.

Dom pushed Vince toward the bathroom with orders to clean up while he found him something to wear to bed.

With a sinking feeling of shame, Vince finally saw his face in the bathroom mirror. He **was** a fucking mess. His left eye was beginning to swell and blacken where his father had slammed him into the door jamb and there was a reddish-purple bruise around the left corner of his mouth and chin and a split lower lip where the old fuck had backhanded him.

Vince quickly lowered his eyes so he wouldn't have to see what his life was and carefully dabbed water on his face. He stripped his tee shirt over his head and swore softly when the neckband pulled at his split lip, threatening to open it up again.

He lifted his right arm and ran his fingers gently over the mottled band of bruising that was forming over his ribs and half-way across his chest.

"I thought you said your ribs were OK," Dom said accusingly.

Vince dropped his arm and hugged it protectively across his ribs as he whirled to see Dom standing in the open bathroom door.

"I'm OK," Vince said defensively.

"The hell you are! What did that fucker do to you? It looks like he hit you with a baseball bat!" Dom's voice was harsh.

"He didn't do it," Vince mumbled in embarrassment. "I hit the porch railing when I was running out of the house."

"Yeah...well, he's still responsible. Asshole!"

Dom sighed. "Here," he said, flipping down the toilet lid. "Sit down for a sec."

"Why?" Vince asked suspiciously, but he lowered himself to sit down anyway.

"Something to help keep the swelling and bruising down. Mom swears by it and she's always using it on Dad and me when we get banged up."

"Nooo," Vince said, apprehensively eyeing the bottle Dom pulled out of the medicine cabinet, "That's OK, I'm good."

"Oh, don't be such a pussy," Dom scoffed lightly. "It's only witch hazel, it doesn't sting."

Before Vince could object further, Dom had pulled a clean washcloth from the linen closet, soaked it in the clear liquid and laid it gently down the side of Vince's face.

Vince flinched, but it was only from the sudden chill. Dom was right, it didn't sting.

"Hey, hold this," Dom said, nodding toward the cloth on his face. He dug around in the closet and pulled out a small hand towel, liberally doused it with the witch hazel and applied the cold towel to Vince's bruised ribs. Again, Vince jumped from the sudden cold against his bruise-heated skin, but after a couple of seconds he realized it felt good; very soothing. "Press your elbow down to hold it and come on," Dom instructed, and Vince followed Dom into his bedroom.

"Hey," Vince complained, "You used too much. My pants are soaked."

"Well, here..." Dom pointed to the white undershirt lying on the top of the dresser. "Sorry, but I don't have any pajamas," Dom said, "Just underwear and a tee shirt. I can probably dig around and find the pair my Aunt Fran gave me for Christmas last year if you want."

"Nah, it’s cool," Vince said. He'd spent lots of night here, but he'd always had time to prepare for it before.

"That's probably about as good as it's going to get," Dom said, gesturing toward the wet cloths. "You might as well go ahead and sack out." Dom took the towel and washcloth and dropped them into a half-full laundry basket at the foot of the bed. Then he proceeded to strip down to his briefs and pulled a baggier tee shirt over his head.

He waited by the light switch until Vince had kicked off his running shoes, skinned out of his jeans and pulled the clean, soft white shirt on.

"Lose the socks, man." Dom said, pointing to Vince's feet. "I'm getting the funk from here."

After Vince pulled off the socks and tucked them inside his shoes, he crawled into Dom's huge queen size bed that took up about half of his room and moved over closer to the wall. Dom flipped off the light and crossed to the bed in the near darkness. It was a cool night, but not really cold, so there was only a sheet and a light blanket on the bed. They were queen sized like the bed so there was plenty to go around.

"You gonna be able to sleep?" asked Dom, quietly.

"I'm fine," Vince said quickly.

"I mean, 'cause if you need to talk...or something..."

"I'm OK!" Vince said more forcefully, his voice a little choked, turning over onto his side to face the wall.

"OK," Dom said soothingly. "Goodnight, then."

"’Night," Vince replied softly. Then a moment later, more softly still, "Dom? Thanks."

"No problem, man."

With the lights out and nothing to distract his mind from the night's events, it didn't take long for everything to start collapsing in on Vince. He couldn't stop the replay in his mind, no matter how tightly he squeezed his eyes shut and tried to will himself to sleep. It seemed like the tighter he tried to hold onto his control, the slipperier it became. He could feel the pressure building up in his chest until it felt like it was going to smother him.

The sob slipped out before Vince could stop it. The sound was small; hardly more than a ghost of a gasp for air, but it shook his body and then the whole bed. A second sob followed the first and Vince felt like he wanted the world to just open up and swallow him. He didn't think he could be any more humiliated than he was at having to show up at his best friend's house the way he did, but to be laying beside Dom in the dark, bawling like a little girl and not being able to stop...fuck, he **was** a pathetic little pansy. He couldn't seem to be able to get his shit together, even when he felt Dom moving behind him, scooting closer to put a hand on his shoulder. Vince shrugged off the hand and buried his face tighter into the pillow, trying to smother the embarrassingly harsh snorting sounds that insisted on escaping from between his tightly clamped lips and through his nose.

Dom began tugging at his shoulder, calling his name softly and trying to get him to turn around. Vince fought it and clung to his side of the bed, refusing to let Dom see him with his face smeared with tears and snot. Dom finally stopped trying to make Vince turn over. Instead he lifted the covers and crawled over Vince's body, wedging himself into the small space between Vince and the wall.

Dom put his arms around Vince and pulled him in against his warm body, ignoring the fact that Vince had stiffened and tried to roll away. He just clung to Vince, refusing to let him escape, pulling his head, pillow and all, onto his shoulder.

When Vince felt Dom's hands moving in soothing circles on his back, he finally gave up the struggle and let himself be folded against Dom's body. He clutched at Dom with both hands, now burying his face between shoulder and neck and pushing his own body still closer to his friend's.

Vince suddenly had the wild idea that if he could just push close enough, maybe he could crawl inside the other boy's body and live Dom's life with him, forget his own existed.

He felt Dom respond by wrapping his arms more securely around Vince, fingers digging into his back as he began to rock him gently...back and forth, back and forth...his lips blowing warm air across the surface of Vince's ear as he continually made small shushing sounds.

How long they stayed that way, Vince had no idea, but his sobs had fallen into an occasional hiccup and his arms felt rubbery and lifeless from stress. The shoulder beneath his cheek was soaked from various leaking fluids, but Vince couldn't seem to stir himself to feel any further humiliation. He was just too wrung out from the tide of emotions that had poured from him like flood water through a busted dam.

Somehow Vince had wound up completely tangled with Dom under the warmth of the covers, even their legs were all jumbled together. He knew he was too old for this shit and should be pulling away...fifteen was too old to be doing a lot of things he'd done in the last few minutes...but he was too limp and sleepy and comfortable to give a shit. 'Sides, it wasn't like Dom seemed to mind, he wasn't trying to pull away.  
Vince knew he should say something to Dom; thank him or something, but he just didn't want to break this comfortable, dark silence that surrounded them. It was like being in a secret place, safe from all the shit at home, like nothing was quite real anymore. He felt himself floating in a relaxed limbo, halfway between sleeping and awake. If he could just shift his ass a little and untwist his hips…because there was a kink...there, that was better. Now he could stretch out his legs, the top one sliding against warm flesh. He was drifting through a semi-dream state and it felt warm and safe.

The rocking motion began again and it felt so good. He barely noticed when Dom's hands became still on his back, barely heard the softly whispered, "Vince?" before he burrowed closer, clutching Dom's back through the cotton of his tee shirt and pressed his face into damp, warm curve of Dom's neck.

Vince was so intent on seeking comfort that he didn’t notice when one of Dom's hands left his back to trail slowly down his side. It shook slightly as it slid over his hip and down to cup between his legs. Vince sobbed again, but it was different kind of sound, as he humped his dick into the curve of Dom's hand. The touches were soft and tentative...Vince smiled dreamily to himself...almost as if Dom were petting a wild animal and not Vince's hard cock through the soft cotton fabric of his briefs.

Vince suddenly jerked awake to the realization of what Dom was doing, what he had been doing. He'd been humping his hard dick against his friend's leg, like Aldo, that stupid, mindless poodle that belonged to Mrs. Andracus. Vince remembered Dom trying to pull himself gently away and Vince plastering himself like some kind of panting slut against him. Oh God!

"Oh shit! Oh fuck!" Vince pushed himself violently away from Dom, hearing the soft thud and the muffled, "Owww!" as Dom's head thumped against the wall.

"Vince?"

"I'm sorry! Oh fuck, I'm so sorry! I didn't mean...I didn't know...Oh God, Dom, I'm **so sorry**!" Vince was babbling. He somehow had enough presence of mind to keep his voice to a whisper, maybe it was the darkness. Vince felt like bawling again but he was too horrified and the adrenaline was surging through his body. He felt like one of those race cars tumbling out of control and he was just waiting to crash against the barrier.

"Shhh! Vince, it’s OK!" Dom's hands were grabbing at Vince's flailing arms as he frantically tried to thrust his way backwards out of the bed.

Flipping himself over, Vince tried to climb out of the bed, but they'd been plastered against the wall before and that left lots of empty territory in the queen-sized bed to try and scramble across. Before he could make his escape, Dom had wrapped arms and legs around his body like an octopus, effectively pinning Vince's arms to his side and tangling with his legs. The room was filled with the violent rustling of the bed clothes and the grunts and groans of Vince writhing around ineffectually, Dom's grip tightening down a little more with each struggle until Vince gave up and went limp, his harsh pants ripping through the sudden quiet of the room.

"Are you through spazzing out?" Dom asked when Vince's breathing had calmed down somewhat.

Vince could feel the tremors running through his body. He almost groaned out loud when he realized his dick was still hard enough to drill a hole in a 2 by 4. What kind of a fucking freak was he? "Lemme go, Dom," he panted.

"Not if you're going to bolt out of here like your ass is on fire."

"Lemme go, Dom!"

"Will you keep it the fuck down!?" Dom whispered harshly, squeezing tighter. "What the hell is the matter with you?"

"Lemme go." The words came out softer this time, more of a plea than a demand and Vince was horrified to hear the quiver in his voice.

"I'll let you go just as soon as you swear you're not going to get out of this bed until you talk to me!"

Vince gave one more struggle but it was weak and half-hearted at best and easily subdued by Dom.

"Just talk to me, Vince! Tell me what's wrong," demanded Dom softly.

"What's wrong? I guess…I guess I am a faggot, just like he said," Vince sobbed harshly.

Dom was quiet for a second. "Like who said? Your old man?"

Vince nodded jerkily.

"Vince...man, your father is a worthless piece of shit who drinks away his paycheck and beats up on you and your mom. You hate the bastard. Why the hell would you listen to any of the shit that falls out of his mouth?"

There was a moment of silence while Vince tried to work around the lump of despair in his throat. "'Cause it's true," he finally choked out.

Dom gradually loosened his death squeeze on Vince. He felt Dom's arms withdraw until just his hands lay lightly on Vince's shoulder blades, rubbing gently.

"What...you think you're queer 'cause you popped a boner after getting a little human comfort when you've had such a really shitty night?"

Vince didn't bother to answer; he just curled up a little tighter. He could feel Dom's chest expanding as he took a deep breath.

"I guess your old man never really took you aside and gave you the 'birds and the bees' talk,” murmured Dom. “On the other hand, I bet I’d be really freaked out to hear what he said."

Vince stiffened. He wanted to throw a sneering look over his shoulder; he settled for a mumbled, "I know about sex, Dom!"

"Yeah, I'm sure you know the basics, just like I did, it's hard to grow up nowadays without getting an ear-full of it by the time we're ten, but that's about it. And old man Krinsky isn't exactly forthcoming with the details, either. They really need to get someone born later than the Jurassic period to teach Sex Ed.," Dom complained.

Vince knew that Dom was rambling on to give him time to calm down. Dom had 'managed' Vince enough times for him to be aware of when it was happening. Funny thing though, it worked every time, even when Vince was savvy to it.

"Anyway," Dom continued his voice very low and matter-of-fact, "last summer my mom walked in on me one night while I was beating off."

That did cause Vince to jerk and glance wide-eyed over his shoulder.

"Yeah," Dom snorted, "me too! I mean, I was under the sheet and everything, it's not like she saw nothing, but it still freaked the shit outta me. And the next night my dad took me out to the garage so I could 'help him with the Charger'" Vince could hear the quotes in Dom’s voice and it made him smile a little. "What he really did was hem and haw his way through about forty-five minutes of small talk before getting down to it. Jeez that was embarrassing, almost as much as my mom walking in on me. I tried to tell him I already knew about it, but he just kept on talking and it finally came to me that I didn't know shit!"

Vince relaxed as he listened to Dom's voice. He was even vaguely aware that Dom's hands had begun stroking down his arms, talking about hormones and the urge to procreate _'That means knock up as many females as you can,'_ the tips of his long fingers gliding over to brush Vince's chest, but Vince couldn't find it in himself to get worked up over the touching. He was simply amazed that Dom had this kind of conversation with his dad. Vince couldn't even conceive of anything similar with his own father, but then Mr. Toretto was pretty special.

"What it all boils down to," Dom summarized, "is that guys our age are experiencing an overload of testosterone, kinda like turbo-charging hormones. The 'gotta fuck like monkeys' part of our brain is getting in the way of the 'gotta make babies' part and we're looking for anywhere to stick our dicks that's gonna make them feel good." Dom leaned up and propped his chin on Vince's shoulder, staring down at him. "You gettin' this?"

"Yeeaah," Vince drawled uncertainly.

"Look, here's a pretty good test. Last week at the football game, when Matt Langsturm was raising Gina Gershon over his head during that lift, the one where he had his hand plastered to her ass under her skirt and was obviously throwing some wood because of it, which one were you picturing naked?"

"Gina Gershon," Vince said without hesitation, his mind's eye once again mesmerized with the way her tits bounced up and down beneath her sweater when she was cheering.

"There you go!" Dom said triumphantly. "So you're about as not-queer as most guys our age get. Sooo..."

Vince felt Dom's hand slide down his side until it rested on his hip. His dick was so hard it was practically quivering, but he still felt funny about letting Dom touch him (even though his dick was screaming otherwise) and curled his upper leg up protectively.

"Hey, it's OK," Dom whispered softly, making Vince shiver with the feel of the moist, warm air ghosting over the side of his face. Dom gripped the top of his thigh and tugged it gently back down, reaching around to cup his warm palm once more over Vince's straining flesh.

"I...uh..."

"If you don't want this, just say so. It’s not gonna hurt my feelings. But it’s OK to…take a little comfort sometimes," Dom whispered, his hand sliding beneath the elastic waist of the briefs.

Any doubts that Vince might have had were chased out of his mind by those horny monkeys the second Dom's finger-tips stroked the cleft on the underside of his cock-head, causing it to jump and drool on his belly and making him hump up into Dom's hand.

"Guh...!" he gurgled as Dom's hand gripped his shaft, pumping once, twice, making a trip down to let his fingers swirl over Vince's balls, then back up to thumb the tiny, weeping slit at the tip. Each touch was a surprise, it was kind of amazing what a difference a different hand could make.

"Dom!" Vince's voice was little more than a gasp as Dom pumped his cock a couple of more times, then he was coming hard and his mind was blanking out. His body was trembling and he could swear he saw a whole fireworks show of sparkling colors exploding before his closed eyes. When he could finally think, Dom was easing his hand from Vince's briefs and throwing off their blanket.

Dom rolled away and Vince flopped over onto his back and the two of them lay panting. Vince had jacked off plenty of times, but he’d never come so hard from just his own hand. Dom's head lolled back until he could meet Vince's eyes. He was smiling.

"OK?" Dom asked.

Vince was quiet as he searched his friend's face in the moonlight that filtered through the window. In his own head he still felt some questions and doubts, a niggling little worm of something that felt kind of like shame that kept wriggling around the edges of his mind; but what it all boiled down to was...he trusted Dom. It was that simple.

"OK," Vince agreed softly.

Dom grinned huge then wiped the mess on his hand off onto his own shorts before clambering over Vince to stand beside the bed.

"What about you?" Vince asked stiltedly, making a vague gesture towards Dom's crotch.

"I came," Dom said with a shrug, rummaging in a dresser drawer.

Vince frowned and thought back, trying to replay exactly what happened just now. He remembered Dom moving up against his back while he jacked Vince off. Gentle, rhythmic movements that became more rough and uneven at the end.

"Hey!"

"Shhh!" Dom said as he reached for the doorknob. "Be right back."

By the time Dom came back Vince was sitting on the side of the bed in uncomfortable, sticky shorts. "You came on my ass!" hissed Vince indignantly as soon as the door was closed.

"Here, catch!" called Dom and Vince put up his hand in time to keep a warm, wet washcloth from smacking him in the face. "I came in my shorts," Dom corrected with a shadowed shrug of his shoulders and a grin in his voice. "Your ass just happened to be on the other side of my shorts. I've done the same thing with a pillow. Here, here's another pair. After you mop up and change, just throw everything in the basket at the foot of the bed."

Dom dropped a fresh pair of underwear beside him then crawled back into bed moving around Vince, settling in facing the wall and pulling the covers up around his shoulders.

In a really weird fit of modesty, Vince turned his back while he stripped and cleaned up. He was really amazed at how matter-of-fact Dom was acting; like it was no big deal to jack off your best friend until he shot all over your hand. "Won't your mom like, freak out when she finds them?" Vince asked, awkwardly rolling the wet cloth into the messy briefs and depositing them in the laundry basket.

"I don't think she would; she’s pretty cool about the whole thing," Dom yawned widely, "but it doesn't matter 'cause she won't see them. I’m almost sixteen, man…Mom’s cutting off the laundry service. She's starting me on whites 'cause they're hard to fuck up. Come on, get in bed. We're gonna be draggin' ass at school tomorrow."

Vince gingerly slid into bed, leaving a generous amount of room between Dom and him. He lay on his back and he couldn't seem to relax past the 'stiff-as-a-board' stage. He wasn't really freaked by what had just happened between him and his best friend of the last seven years, he was just...well, yeah, a little freaked, but he was OK with it. Wasn't he?

"Will you relax, Vince? I'm not going to jump you or anything. Don't you trust me?"

Vince could swear he heard just a hint of hurt in Dom's voice and he was quick to reassure him.

"Sure I trust you. I'm just..." Vince sighed wearily. "It's been a long day, that's all. I'm just tired."

"Well then, go to sleep. We can talk tomorrow after school if you want." Dom's voice was a sleepy murmur. "OK?"

"Sure," Vince whispered. He was quiet for a moment, but there was a question that was threatening to burst out of him if he didn't ask now. He wasn't sure though if it would offend Dom, maybe piss him off, but he had to ask anyway. "Dom?" his voice was very low and tentative. If Dom was already asleep he didn't want to wake him.

"Hmmm?" Dom's reply was little more than a breathy murmur.

"Never mind," Vince chickened out.

"What's your question, Vince? Get it said."

"Uh...I was just wondering...who were you picturing? Naked I mean. Gina or Matt?" Vince's voice cracked a little under the pressure and his eyes were glued to the shadows on the ceiling.

He could feel Dom turn over onto his back to look at him and he held his breath as he waited for his answer.

"Both," Dom answered quietly. "I was picturing them both naked." There was a heart beat of silence. "Does that bother you?"

Vince felt the tension melt out of his body when he realized that the answer really didn't bother him. It was the 'not knowing' that had been tying him up in knots.

"No," Vince answered readily. "It doesn't bother me."

There must have been a ring a truth in his voice because he could hear and feel Dom sigh and the tension that Dom had obviously caught from him flowed away from his body.

"Good. That's good. 'Night Vince, I'll see you in the morning."

"Night Dom," Vince murmured. He felt himself sliding into sleep and he stopped it with one last thought. "Hey, Dom?"

There was a sigh in the darkness. “Yeah?" Dom's voice was wary, but patient.

"I know you don't mean anything by it, but..." his voice trailed off indecisively.

"What is it Vince?" Dom's voice was even more wary and Vince could feel the anxiety building between them again and he hurried to cut it off.

"Could you not call me 'stupid' or 'dummy'?" he asked in a rush.

There was a moment of total silence, and though Dom didn't seem to move at all, Vince could feel the pressure ease.

"Sure," Dom agreed, solemnly.

Vince released his own pent up breath and finally relaxed and let sleep wash over him. The last thing he  
heard before he dropped off was a teasingly added, "Dickhead."

~*~*~*~*~

Vince smiled. He hadn’t thought about that night in a long time. Though there had been many nights that he spent in Dom’s bed over the next few years, there had never been a repeat performance. The first couple of sleepovers, Vince had been somewhat apprehensive about the possibility; later, especially when some ‘good’ girl had him tied up in sexual knots, he’d almost longed for one. It’s not like he thought Dom would turn him down if he’d made the first move, but the first time had been comfort. Anything else would have changed their relationship, and probably not for the better.

Vince allowed his mind to race back over the last few weeks since the punk had first shown his face; looked at the angles. He decided that he could grit his teeth and just take it until he found evidence to back up his suspicions.

Tapping the buckles of his wrist band against the arm of the chair, Vince nodded his head and guzzled the last of the warm beer. Disposing of the bottle on the back porch, he walked around the front of the house and climbed back into his car.

***

”Look who it is! Old coyotes-are-us! I thought you weren’t hungry, Pumpkin.”

Vince slowed, suddenly felt a little awkward; something else that could be dumped back at Spilner’s feet, ‘cause Vince never felt awkward around the guys before, at least not this way. He spread out his arms, “I gotta eat.” Then he held his breath. As an apology for the way he’d skated, it wasn’t all that great.

Dom half turned in his chair but never really looked at him. "Alright, sit down," he gestured, but Vince could tell he was still a little pissed. He walked up behind Dom and squeezed his shoulders lightly; kissed him on the back of the head, Dom’s stubble teasing his lips, and then he palmed the top of his head as he walked past. Dom didn’t tense up or shrug him off, so everything would be alright.

Vince even accepted the beer that Spilner opened for him instead of knocking it out of his hand the way he wanted to.

The punk sat there, all golden-boy and perfect, like butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth and Vince knew he’d just have to wait for the right time. Mr. White Bread would fuck up somehow and Vince would be there to make sure that Dom and Mia saw it.

 

END


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